Stolen Touches Novels & Stories

There’s no hurry, no violence, just the slow thaw of two animals circling the same spot in the dirt, trying to decide if they want to fight or fuck or just curl up and keep each other from freezing to death. His hands come up, tentative at first, then stronger as they bracket my hips. I shuck my sweater, let it fall to the floor, and his gaze skates over my body like he’s seeing it for the first time. He runs a thumb along the line of my rib, catching on a scar, and he traces it as if he could erase the memory just by touching it enough. I slip my hand between his legs. He’s already hard, but there’s a reluctance in his body, like he’s bracing for pain instead of pleasure.

“Don’t touch it!” Rachel and Corvina come closer and Corvina inspects the shield carefully as she gasps. “This isn’t mine.” “What do you mean?” I ask her, dread rising in my body. She just shakes her head, not answering my question as she walks away, dragging me with her. “We have to go back.” We have just made a few steps as a swoosh pierces the air, and Corvina screams in pain, letting go of me. I watch her stumble back with an arrow in her arm as I get pulled back just in time by Rachel as another buzzing, transparent net dashes out of the dirty ground, separating us from Corvina. “What the fuck?”

I saw one of them go down on her knees on the stage and part her legs to let the crowd have a glance at her honey pot. The crows erupted in chaos and everyone turned towards her. I saw some men lean down to touch it but she wouldn't let them. She was displaying a ‘see but not touch’ stripping. She would let them have a vivid sight of what they desired, but wouldn't let them get up close. “Casper!” A voice suddenly rang in the air, cutting the replayed scenes off. I looked up, and my heart sank when a blonde-haired girl bent down and slammed her lips on Casper's lips.

I froze near the elevator when a familiar voice called my name. “Mrs. Robinson?” Sebastian Cross. His brow was furrowed, briefcase in hand. “Are you okay?” I swiveled toward him, suddenly unsteady, words spilling before I could contain them. “He touched me,” I blurted, my voice tight and raw. “Inappropriately. The director. He-he touched my arm, lingered,” My chest rose and fell sharply, sweat beading at my forehead. Sebastian’s expression hardened instantly. Rage, controlled but unmistakable, flared behind his calm demeanor.

LOLITA'S POV The gammas leave with formal bows and hollow reassurances. I close the door behind them, my fingers trembling against the polished wood. Their words echo in my ears — a coincidence, just a coincidence that Marcus and I were in Moonfall when the rogues attacked. No connection to our visit to Morena. No reason for suspicion. Lies. All of it. My broken arm throbs beneath its cast, like a reminder of the price we have paid. The price Marcus paid with his life.

“I’m not letting this slip away.” I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me. For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to make this work. The days that followed were a whirlwind of stolen moments and lingering touches. At work, we were the picture of professionalism—almost. But behind closed doors, the lines blurred in ways that left me breathless. Aaron would find excuses to brush his fingers against mine or to stand just a little too close. I wasn’t any better, constantly seeking him out under the guise of work. Every glance, every touch felt like a secret only the two of us shared. One evening, as I handed him a folder, our fingers grazed

He said nothing but just stared at me. Something unusual was seen in his stare, something representing hunger. Finally, he found his voice again. “There are rules before you came here.” I arched a brow, clearly taken aback by his sudden outburst. “Oh, I am made for rules.” He stepped back, breathing in fury like someone holding wickedness. “No touching is one of them.” I held his gaze, crossed my arms dramatically. “It's no news that you touched me first.” “That was an honest mistake which can be ignored.”

Did he mean he’d intentionally put me in danger, or he’d intentionally wanted me swallowed, crushed, spat out, smeared across the streets…? Which was it? I was just disappointed I’d let my body fall for his touch again. How could I let him touch me again, after finding out he was engaged? How could I let him touch me again without any real commitment? Heaven knows I wasn’t doing shit with him again. I would stab everywhere in my body, so I could feel real pain that would wake me up from that stupid lust—of course that was it— before I let him touch me again. My new plan was to face my work, get back everything that was stolen from me, and move out of this fucking town. Emphasis on getting ba

I had nothing to say when it came to him. He stood, his eyes moving over me. He stared at my waist, pulling the t-shirt of his I was officially stealing from him to tuck it in the leggings. I let him, I did not even flinch. His touch was gently, every touch as if asking for permission. He tucked the t-shirt all around then stepped back. I guess he was satisfied with it because he turned to walk away. I turned with him, wanting to see where he was going. It was weird wearing shoes, I will tell you that. My feet felt as if they were being squeezed to death.

he added sliding his hand up her thigh. Yulvar glared at him warning him to remove his hand but he avoided her eyes not removing his hand from her thigh. "Let's have it," she said to the group. As they began to volunteer one. Yulvar felt her dress going up her thighs. 'What the?' she asked herself and averted her gaze from the table to check. Nothing was touching her dress but she was sure someone was responsible for that. She looked over at the brave male right beside her to find him toying with a relic of telekinesis.